


Happy Little Trees

by bluehwys



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Community: avengerkink, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehwys/pseuds/bluehwys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson took a moment to visit his Zen Place.  This guy.  <i>This guy.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Little Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt:
> 
> There is this wonderful picture on deviantart: ["Young Phil and Clint" by johanirae](http://johanirae.deviantart.com/art/Young-Phil-and-Clint-305861056?moodonly=1). I would love to read a story for this! (can also be gen, up to the anon :-))
> 
> Takes place in the early days of Clint's SHIELD career.

"What are the charges?"

The desk clerk opened the file in front of him and heaved a sigh. "Disorderly conduct, public indecency, disturbing the peace, destruction of property, public endangerment, arson, resisting arrest, possession of an illegal weapon, illegal parking, failure to yield to an oncoming vehicle, littering."

"What was the illegal weapon?"

"Flaming. Arrows." He fixed Coulson with a dark look, as if Coulson was personally responsible for this insanity.

Coulson took a moment to visit his Zen Place. This guy. _This guy._ Coulson didn't care if Fury was all hot and bothered over this guy, _this guy_ was going to put Coulson into an early grave.

"I'd like to see him."

The clerk grunted and led Coulson down the hall to the holding cells. Barton was in the third one on the left, bruised and bloodied and handcuffed to the bars. He grinned when he saw Coulson .

"Hey!"

"Don't speak." He waited until the clerk had retreated back to his desk. "Explain."

"I didn't start it, I swear."

"You never do."

"It was just a friendly game of darts--"

"It always is."

"--accused me of cheating! I can't help it they suck at darts and their girlfriends liked me better than them. Then someone brought their mothers into it, I don't know, there were bikers, and a car chase, I don't know how that homeless guy got involved but he's a great spotter you guys should look into him, and we were nowhere _near_ that sushi place I don't care what anyone says..."

 _Happy little trees, happy little clouds._ Coulson focused on his mantra, repeated it to himself over and over. Visualized. Breathed.

"...midgets, and I'm like, what? Then that hotdog cart came out of _nowhere_ , and I had no choice." 

"No choice but flaming arrows."

"Yeah." Barton shrugged, like it was the obvious and most logical conclusion.

Coulson looked at him, unrepentant in the holding cell. Repeated his mantra. Counted to ten. Counted to thirty. Breathed.

"Okay."

"Yeah?" Barton smiled and started to get up, and Coulson held up a hand to stop him.

"Okay, someone will be by to collect you in the morning. Say, nineish."

Barton stared at him in disbelief. "It's two in the morning!"

Coulson smiled. "Then I suggest you make yourself comfortable, and try to think up a better explanation for Director Fury then, 'flaming arrows because'."

**Author's Note:**

> [The Joy of Painting](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Joy_of_Painting)
> 
> is Coulson's Zen Place, and Bob Ross is his Zen Master. :)


End file.
